Double Edged
by kitsune2
Summary: Final chapter - Can Legolas and Aragorn resolve the misunderstanding that keeps them apart? L/A Slash!
1. Double Edged

Double-Edged

By Kitsune

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all of its characters clearly do not belong to me. They belong to the amazing J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm merely playing with their minds…(evil grin).

WARNING: This is a hint of SLASH. While there is no explicit homosexual action, this story involves a man (male elf, really) in love with a man. If this bothers you, I am certainly not going to make you read it, and indeed kindly request that you take yourself elsewhere and read some of the lovely het works on ffnet. If you read the fic in spite of my warning, then don't complain to me!

Feedback: Please, please, please…yes, I am begging! I would like to know what you think of it – love it, hate it, don't get it- whatever! Just keep in mind that flames will be used to heat my very cold dorm room. 

Note: This is a psuedo-vignette from Legolas' POV. It can stand on it's own, but if enough people R&R I may do a couple of follow-ups that involve actual character interaction! So, let me know!

         *             *                      *                      *                      *                      *                      

A dream. A whisper of hope slipping across my muddled mind. A knife in my heart.

Oh Stars above, oh Earth below – take this night, this pain from my soul. I am weak. I cannot withstand such a trial. Give it to another. Any other – only be it not I! No. I will not blame this on fate, nor will I seek to burden another with the weight of my pain. I refuse to be so selfish. Yet … for another perhaps this knowledge, this silken knife sensation would bring no such suffering. For any other in the Fellowship, the trial could mean nothing more than, at the most, a broken heart. What are a few years of sorrow to the potential death of a soul? 

No! Again I demonstrate my weakness! This shall not be. My pain is of my own making, born of my twisted, and clearly masochistic soul, of my twice damned irrational sensibilities. If I were in any way other than I am, this sorrow, this bone-deep ache – this stupidity – would not be. It is because of who I was, what I have seen, what I have done, and most certainly whom I have become, that I find myself in such a treacherous position. I am in a hell of my own construction. To suffer all the slings and arrows of love – who could tell in this case which would be worse; rejection, or (oh Horrors!) acceptance? Yet neither does recourse lie on the other side of the path. To never know love, whether I be fated to experience the exquisite agony of an unrequited heart, or blessed to cradle the twofold return deep in the recesses of my heart – for either of these, I would suffer a thousand injuries. But, would I die a thousand deaths? 

It is not love itself that I fear. No, indeed, I believe love to be the most noble aspiration of any being. It is the nature of rational beings to love – without experiencing this twofaced emotion, how is one to ever become all that one may possibly be? How else could any person soar to the highest reaches of their soul? I must love to fully live. 

Moreover, love is a beautiful thing. It is the closest that created beings can come to _creating._ A love born from two hearts is the perfect entity – it takes what the two can separately be and raises them beyond anything that they could have been alone. A true love is as much a living thing as a child. More, for it will never die.

So how can it be that something so precious could hurt so much? I wish that I could lie to my soul, assure it that certainly it does not love. I wish that I could convince my heart that it twists only because of infatuation…or affection – yes. Simple, chaste…_brotherly_ affection. Surely, if I told it so, my body would believe that it shivers and throbs because of indigestion, or too little sleep…or perhaps some unknown poison on an enemy's sword. Oh, how I wish that I could thus deceive myself. But alas, a curse of my kind- if we once learn the working of our souls, if I at any time truly know myself – so it shall forever be. I know that I love. 

Love is a beautiful thing. Certainly something to which all beings should aspire. Love creates perfection. To truly live, one must truly love. But, to truly love I must truly die. My death would not be as the quick, fatal stroke of a lucky sword. Mine would be an agonizing, painstakingly slow death that would nevertheless cause the rest of my live to dissolve into a brief departing mist. 

I have always sought love. Always have I known that one day I would find it. And I rejoiced. I sang of my love that was to be to the trees, to the stars, to the blades of grass beneath my feet. And they rejoiced for me. But now that love has hunted me down, I shrink in terror. I wish to run and hide from it. I beg it to find another in my stead. For I am weak. I cannot bear the burden that this love will bring to me. I never thought that this would be so. I never knew that my love would require such strength, such sacrifice, and such pain. 

Oh, Trees, oh Moon! I call to you in my anguish! Save me from myself! Or, since you cannot, tell me at the least, why must he be mortal? 

End


	2. The Senses

The Senses

By Kitsune

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all of its characters clearly do not belong to me. They belong to the amazing J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm merely playing with their minds…(evil grin).

WARNING: This is SLASH. While there is no _explicit_ homosexual action, this story involves a man (male elf, really) in love with a man. If this bothers you, I am certainly not going to make you read it, and indeed kindly request that you take yourself elsewhere and read some of the lovely het works on ffnet. If you read the fic in spite of my warning, then don't complain to me!

Feedback: Please, please, please…yes, I am begging! I would like to know what you think of it – love it, hate it, don't get it- whatever! Just keep in mind that flames will be used to heat my very cold dorm room. 

Note: This is the second installment in the Double Edged series. Again from Legolas' POV. Let me know what you think about it –. if you can offer some constructive criticism, I would really appreciate it! Keep reviewing, and I will keep writing! 

     *                 *                      *                      *                      *                      *

The wind breathes across my face, tangles playfully in my hair, whispers its joyful secrets into my ears. _A baby bird was hatched this morn…a star was born…a leaf fell into the river…an elf loved…_It soothes my brow and lifts my face, entreating me to smile with it, then flitters away. So many joys exist in this world. It would take more than the lifetimes of every elf that has ever been created just to begin to catalogue them. Is it better to try to see as many of the miracles as possible, or to focus on one wonder? Would it be as fulfilling (or more perhaps) to study intensely through every angle, examine, experience, _understand_ one solitary marvel?

It began with a touch. A callused hand brushing against pale, soft skin in the most innocent of ways. A shiver racing through a sensitive body as the contact is created, sustained, then removed. The hitherto unknown desire to follow the hand, to gain _more._  A sudden and inexplicable knowledge – carnal knowledge. _I know how your skin would feel against mine. I know how your hands would get lost in my hair. I know how you would sigh. _

No. No, actually it did not truly begin with a touch. Before touch was sound. The sound of your voice saying my name. Carried to my ears perhaps by the very wind that haunts me with images of joy. Strong, deep, infinitely caring (you would hold the world to your heart if you could), and far more cruel. The timbre of your voice swam through the air, echoed through my ears into my brain, and raced through my blood in search of my heart. My name has never been so dear to me as when it wrapped itself around my soul with your warmth – bringing with it the vision of how soft your eyes must have looked when you spoke it. 

Ah. Perhaps that is how it really began. Not a touch or a sound, but an image. Not just the image of your strong form, or your beautiful face. This doom must have been initiated when my eyes first met yours. It was because they shone with the light of the moon. Or because they let me see that you were trying not to show all of your pain. Yet every sacrifice that you have made for the people of this land are written in the golden flecks that highlight the blue. Or perhaps I saw in them something that I have never recognized in another. Something that resides deep within my soul. Something that I need. Perhaps it was a different reason altogether, but certainly, this began with a look into your eyes. 

Or…Possibly I saw reflected in your eyes something that had existed long before mine had ever perceived you. My soul knew yours. Not by sight, or touch, or sound, but from something far more primal. I believe that you carry a missing part of my soul. I have known for eons that a part of my self was missing. I have known that I would have to find and reclaim this piece in order to be full. I know not how it came to be in your possession. Maybe the Gods decided to play some perverse trick upon me. But I do not believe in fate. I live by my own actions. If you hold a piece of my soul, then I must have, at some unknown time – or perhaps before the existence of time - have given it to you. 

Well. I want it back. It was foolish of me to have given it away. I need it. Or…I need you. 

The wind has returned, catching the tears from my cheeks, and dashing them to the ground. It wraps around my head, darts between my lips. It whispers to me of beautiful things. _A rock tumbled over a waterfall…a butterfly found its flower…an elf loves. _So many beautiful things…a universe of amazement. With so little time…Maybe the only way to see all of the beauty in this world is to fully understand the beauty of one miracle, and through it, see every other. If I could catch just one dream, catch it and keep it in my heart, feed it, nurture it, _learn_ it… perhaps that would be enough…perhaps that would be everything. 

The wind whispers into my ear. It whispers beautiful things. It whispers deadly things. It whispers with your voice…_Legolas…_It whispers of love.

End

   *                   *                      *                      *                      *                      * 

Thanks so much to everyone who responded to my first story! OtakuNeev, Thanks! I was hoping someone would catch my Shakespeare ref! J; Lady Ariannya, I am so glad you liked it; BurningTyger, character is my weakpoint, too-thanks for reading it; ZChan (blushing)…How sweet!…erm, no, I'm from Oregon…I'm glad you didn't think he was ooc…thanks!!(still blushing); Riley (really blushing now!) Gosh, thanks! I'm so glad that the emotions I tried to show struck a chord with you!; Epona Baranthule, you are so sweet – I'm sertainly going to try to write more!; The Senshi of the wind, Legolas is one of my favorite characters also, though Bill the pony also has a place in my heart; mika, you are too kind - I hope this was worth waiting for; AmberKid, thank you! I love angst, especially pretty boy angst ;) ; Megan (wow, still blushing!!) thanks! I didn't say who Legolas was pining after because I wanted to let the reader get their own ideas about it, you will probably find out in the third chapter, though this one has hints – sorry to make you wait! All of you are wonderful people, and I love you for reviewing!!! 


	3. Decisions

Decisions

By Kitsune

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all of its characters clearly do not belong to me. They belong to the amazing J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm merely playing with their minds…(evil grin).

WARNING: This is SLASH. While there is no _explicit_ homosexual action, this story involves a man (male elf, really) in love with a man. If this bothers you, I am certainly not going to make you read it, and indeed kindly request that you take yourself elsewhere and read some of the lovely het works on ffnet. If you read the fic in spite of my warning, then don't complain to me!

Feedback: Please, please, please…yes, I am begging! I would like to know what you think of it – love it, hate it, don't get it- whatever! Just keep in mind that flames will be used to heat my very cold dorm room. 

Note: This is the third installment in the Double Edged series. This is the last one for now that is from Legolas' POV.  The plan is to do a few from … someone else's POV, then a few chapters that actually have character involvement. Probably 10 chapters total. Let me know what you think about it –. if you can offer some constructive criticism, I would really appreciate it! Keep reviewing, and I will keep writing! 

     *                 *                      *                      *                      *                      *

My body whispers to me of desire. My soul insinuates fulfillment. My heart hints of love. 

I have always tried to be strong. I have tried to refuse my nature, struggled to prove to those around me (_oh, father_) that I can be strong. That I am strong. I have schooled my body into perfection, worked centuries to master my weapons of choice. My arrows fly faster than lightning and my knifes flash more deadly than fire. I can run for days with barely an uncontrolled breath, or increased heartbeat. 

 I have trained my mind. For more years than I know I have worked to heighten my senses, to speed the channels of my thoughts. I can hear the tone of wrongness in the cry of a bird and identify from it not only what threatens the tiny life, but from whence the threat comes, how soon it will arrive, and can anticipate what the outcome will be. I have studied, have read, have learned. I am not yet a loremaster, but it is whispered by the Elders that if I continue in this track, I may achieve the rank at an age younger then even Elrond. 

I have disciplined my emotions. I take delight in life, but can kill (_betray the light of the world_) without hesitation or regret. I can love…but in moderation. My father has taught me that to love anything too much is to invite pain, betrayal. To love too strongly is to make oneself even more vulnerable; it will result in even greater weakness. My mother (_beautiful, beloved_) taught me that love is necessary. If I am unable to love, I myself betray my people, my heritage. It is not strength that leads one to deny love – it is fear. Thus I love, reasonably.  

I have struggled to overcome my failings. I have refused to be weak. I have prepared for every eventuality. I am ready to meet any enemy. But I was not ready for _you_. You assailed my body, attacked my mind, and defeated my emotions. I have no defense against your beauty, your strength, nor, least of all am I protected against your soul. I hear each breath that you take. I eagerly await any decision, any command, with complete faith in your ability. I …I…No! I cannot! I care for you. I would fight to the death for you. What is more, I would live for you. But I cannot love you. I cannot passively wait for mortality to overcome my weak body. I cannot stand to see the look of disgust that will cross my father's face if I choose you. 

Yet the emotion that I imagine, no, that I know, would grace my mother's face also appears to me. It haunts me. Her eyes would settle one mine, pierce through my soul, read my desire, and my choice. And they would lower, drifting from my face in disappointment. For, you see, she gave everything for love. But…surely she could not expect me to do the same? Certainly she would understand that what was an amazing virtue in her would be a weakness in me…

And yet, what is the world without love? All of my training, all of my sacrifice must have been for something. Perhaps I was preparing myself to face the challenge of you. For it would be a challenge. First, I must confront my feelings. I must accept the truth that stares at me out of your eyes. I love you. Deeply. More than I should ever care for anything. Let alone a man. But, nevertheless, it is so. 

Second, it will be a struggle to see to it that my intense love for you will not transform itself into a weakness. The darkest night can bring cover to a small group in an evil land. The brightest day can bring recognition and death. Perhaps it is all in the perception. Any event, any attribute can be turned for good or for ill. The double-edged sword may kill your enemies, but it could also slit the throat of a friend. 

Am I rationalizing this? Am I merely trying to cast that which must not be into a more favorable, even acceptable light? Perhaps. But…to turn from love would be to close my eyes on the beauty of the world that I love. I may never love again. Certainly I will never experience this level of intensity. It leaves me terribly vulnerable. There are so many ways in which I could be hurt (_would you accept me, my heart?_). But. 

My hand has offended me in the past. It has not pulled an arrow from the quiver with enough speed to save a friend. But I do not seek to remove the possibility of repeating such an offense by cutting off my hand. I train it, work harder, and ensure that it will next be used to save the life of a friend. 

I have sought to learn so much. I have endeavored to turn myself into the greatest that I can be. There are so many beauties that I have not seen. So many lessons that I will never learn. Perhaps… Perhaps if I could catch just one dream, catch it and keep it in my heart, feed it, nurture it, _learn_ it… perhaps that would be enough…perhaps that would be everything. 

My choice has made itself. If indeed there ever was a choice. I do not believe in predestination. But I do believe that there is an incredible section of my soul. It is a miniscule proportion. Yet, it knows what is right for me, even if my mind would deny the knowledge. That part of my soul fled my body eons ago, and took up residence in yours. It has carefully drawn me to itself. I must be reunited to my soul. 

I do not know if you will accept my love, nor can I guess if you are willing to hear the words that I am now ready to say. But say them I will. Whatever comes of this is what must be, and I will face the challenges that your decision creates. I love you, Aragorn. I would live a mortal live for you, if you so desire. Or, I will wander middle earth alone until the time comes when I will fade silently into the mists of remembrance, and then beyond. I love you, Aragorn. The rest is up to you.

        *              *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the first and second chapters! Taesaki, thanks so much!; Colorain, wow, you liked _my _little story when yours are so wonderful? Gee, thanks!!; Riley, you are too nice! I will continue to write more, but you are doing great on what you know- I really enjoy your stories; Laorin Greenleaf, wow…thanks! ;D ; Lady Ariannya, how sweet of you to review again- where your guesses right? I will definitely keep writing if you keep asking me too!; BurningTyger, my gosh – I am so glad that you like my style so well! Thank you so much (you helped make my day!); Skitzoid-ImhotepLegolasDally, erm…Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club?; Sam, thank you. It is because of mature people like you (and all the other reviewers!) who make it possible for me to be willing to allow people to read what I write. Thank you for your support! All of you are wonderful people, and I love you for reviewing!!! 


	4. Soiled

Soiled

By Kitsune

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all of its characters clearly do not belong to me. They belong to the amazing J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm merely playing with their minds…(evil grin).

WARNING: This is SLASH. While there is no _explicit_ homosexual action, this story involves a man (male elf, really) in love with a man. If this bothers you, I am certainly not going to make you read it, and indeed kindly request that you take yourself elsewhere and read some of the lovely het works on ffnet. If you read the fic in spite of my warning, then don't complain to me!

Feedback: Please, please, please…yes, I am begging! I would like to know what you think of it – love it, hate it, don't get it- whatever! Just keep in mind that flames will be used to heat my very cold dorm room. 

Note: This is the third installment in the Double Edged series. This is the first from Aragorn's POV. Let me know what you think about it –. if you can offer some constructive criticism, I would really appreciate it! Keep reviewing, and I will keep writing! 

     *                 *                      *                      *                      *                      *

A darkness grows in the world. A threat brought to the innocent of middle earth by a selfish, evil being.  He, a being that was once a man, would rule all of the land, would steal the very breath from the living, would rob the purity of the good. A similar darkness lives in my soul.  I (impertinent and undeserving) seek to hold that which should not be touched. I covet something that no man should ever desire to own. I am depraved, a degenerate. A beautiful lamb offered itself to me, and I have agreed to sacrifice it. 

They say that I am Isildur's heir. I believe that I more likely am Sauron's heir. Even Isildur could not paint so evil a taint upon such perfection. 

I met Lady Arwen Undomiel when I was a child. Images of her smiling face have always lingered in the back of my mind. She laughed at my antics once upon a time. My mother died when I was but a babe, and it astonished me that this beautiful, foreign _woman_ could take such joy in my presence. She went away, leaving me caught in a confused miasma of raven hair, soft eyes, earthy scent, breathy voice and unconditional adoration. 

I was a man when she returned. Fully grown and no longer protected by the innocence of childhood. I had killed living beings, exulted in my triumph. I thought that I knew so much. I could defeat any evil. Except the evil of my own perverse weakness. And so, I loved her. I understand now that while the Evenstar is wise in the ways of Middle Earth, and steeped in ancient Elfish knowledge, she knows next to nothing about the ways of man. I took advantage of her naiveté. She did not know enough to be cautious of me. And so, She loved me. 

This enchanting angel has opened her heart to a deceiver, and has offered up her immortality. She has forsworn her eternal life to die for me. And I (_Horrible!_) have accepted this oath. I have promised her that I will become King for her, that I will marry her, that I will love her. I thought that I did love her. But is it love to sentence something to death merely for your own gratification? 

She has always seemed something apart to me. Indeed, she is – she will never be touched by the cares of the outside world, nor will pillaging Time ravage her sweet face. She will remain as she always has been. Pure. Good. Innocent. Alive. At least, she would have remained so, had it not been for me. In my own defiance, I did try to dissuade her. I attempted to explain how her sacrifice nibbled at my heart, how her greatness lessened me. But, those childlike eyes filled with pain (such a foreign concept to her), and she asked what it was that made her so unlovable. Oh, Gods. I am trapped. I have caught myself in a cage of my own making. I have admired celestial beauty, and destroyed it by doing so.

I dream. Nightmares come to me in the dark and light. Images of her face, crumpled with age. Visions of her turning disappointed eyes on me. I am only a man. She has seen nothing but beauty and perfection in her life. How can she understand that I, and the life that she will lead with me, will hold pain, suffering. I will be forced to make decisions that she does not agree with. The world, and the nature of man, will insist upon ruining her ideals. I have gazed into the sky and pulled the most beautiful star down to earth. But a star cannot exist on this world. The very dirt of the land will extinguish its brightness. 

If only there was some way to show her what the world holds, to remind her of what she will be giving up. If she had been trained in the ways of the Elven Warriors, perhaps she would have some idea. They have been forced to kill, to erase the light that they worship from another's eyes, surrendering a soul to darkness forever. Arwen believes that Good people lead Good lives, and that it is only Bad people who kill them, or who they Kill. One day I will be forced to make a diplomatic decision. I will have to choose the lesser of two evils. An innocent will die by my hand. It will happen – it has already begun. 

I cannot allow this. The guilt eats away my soul, destroying the light, and leaving only despair, and shadow. A soul of shadow cannot be expected to lead a Good world. I love Arwen. But I do not deserve her. There is no way. I love her as a sailor loves the stars that guide him. I cherish her, as a gardener would revere a rare and delicate blossom that he has nurtured into existence. But I cannot marry her!

This heady adoration mixed with black guilt is all that I have ever associated with love. But, for some reason, my heart hints to me that this is not all that there is. Something deep inside of me believes that love does not have to include pain, that it can be completely and utterly beautiful. Some part of my soul, at some point in my life (or perhaps in the time before it) happened upon the idea that love should be its own reward, that love would feed upon itself and make the joined lovers greater than they could be separately. By loving Arwen, I am destroying her, and bringing ruin to myself.  Perhaps if I truly loved Arwen, then I would love her even more for her choice – not hate her for the pain it brings me. 

I am in agony. My soul is wracked with convulsions of indecision. My mind is scattered and my focus begins to waver. I am worth very little in the normal span of things, but in this state I am a danger to those around my. In this situation, my inattention could be the death of them. I will master this! Only… I know not how.

        *              *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the first, second, and third chapters! **ZChan**- Thanks so much for reviewing again!; **Riley**- aww...you're so sweet! Thanks so much!; **Lady Ariannya** – I'm glad you liked the results of the third chapter! One of you're favorite stories? (blushes) Wow! Thanks!; **GreenCalenWen** – gosh, thanks – and don't worry, there be no Marysues here!;** Lady Amaryllis** – Glad you liked the angst, there will be a good deal more! J; **Kiss** – my mistake! Thanks! ; **ice cream assassin** – thanks! I've got a couple more stories in mind, but this one is demanding (quite rudely at times) all of my attention for now;** Loki's Mom** – I'm really glad you took a peek at my little tale- I agree, I don't see Elves as being particularly squeamish about homosexual (or whatever !) relationships, but in the case of a Prince who needs to procreate in order to continue the royal line, it may cause a problem. Also, his dad would (in my world) have a problem with the whole mortal man thing – but that will all be explained more in later chapters!;  **Megan **– wow! Thanks a lot! (Aragolas 4-ever!); **Sirena Farren** – action is on its way, I promise!; **Darth Maligna** – thanks! I'm glad you liked it; **Sam** – High praise indeed – I am humbled. Thank you ever so much; **Gabriel Yaslana** – teehee – sorry!; **Wolfmaiden** – wow! Thank you!; **VampireSpider** – well, I was tempted to have Boromir be the object of all of Legolas' turmoil, but in the end, Aragorn was very selfish, and insisted upon it being him. And who am I to say no to Aragorn?; **Cara** – I am touched that this struck such a chord with you; **Chiya** – Thanks loads! I appreciate such high praise!J;** gelfling **– thanks! I personally believe that denial is a gift of the Gods. How the heck else are we supposed to deal with stuff? **All of you are amazing for taking the time to read, and to respond to my story – you have given me so much inspiration! I love writing for you! Thank you!**


	5. Rebirth

Rebirth

By Kitsune

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all of its characters clearly do not belong to me. They belong to the amazing J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm merely playing with their minds…(evil grin).

WARNING: This is SLASH. While there is no _explicit_ homosexual action, this story involves a man (male elf, really) in love with a man. If this bothers you, I am certainly not going to make you read it, and indeed kindly request that you take yourself elsewhere and read some of the lovely het works on ffnet. If you read the fic in spite of my warning, then don't complain to me!

Feedback: Please, please, please…yes, I am begging! I would like to know what you think of it – love it, hate it, don't get it- whatever! Just keep in mind that flames will be used to heat my very cold dorm room. 

Note: This is the third installment in the Double Edged series. This is the second from Aragorn's POV. Let me know what you think about it –. if you can offer some constructive criticism, I would really appreciate it! Keep reviewing, and I will keep writing! 

     *                 *                      *                      *                      *                      *

There is music in my soul tonight. Music that is sweet, light, and airy. It is a breath of fresh air in a world so long dark and foul. It floats on the wind, over the brown and deadened grass, wafting gently up to the stars, which (like me) smile to hear it. The gentle strain meanders through the trees, flirting with the leaves and intimately caressing the branches.

For many years I have fought with my heart. When I was young I stumbled through a world in which I was accepted but did not truly belong. It was a world of beauty, peace, and elegant strength. The Elves moved through time like water flowing over rocks. I blundered about, tripped over my feet and relied on brute strength. I adapted. I found that the grace of sword work sang to my soul. I channeled my energy and bided my time until I could find a world that wanted me within it as a participant, not a mere observer.

As I grew older, I struggled with the difficulty of merging the adoration of a hasty human heart with the affection of an ancient Elven soul. I walked the steps of a young man in love. I brought her pretty things, and I spoke with prettier words. I sacrificed much for her, and I would do so again. But, I have come to fully realize that she must sacrifice for me that which I could never give her, and that which I cannot take from her. I have sought to resign my heart to the fact that by loving her I will bring her pain. 

And now I am weighed down by the efforts of coming to a much heavier realization. I know that I love her. Arwen is beautiful. She is good. She is true, and wise. And, she is immortal. I know that I do not deserve her, or her love. I do not love her enough to rejoice in her willingness to give up her world for me, nor do I love her enough to bear the pain of refusing to accept her sacrifice, yet continuing to plan a life with her. I will not have her sit beside me as I age, transform into some dithering old fool. I cannot do that to myself or to her. 

I also know that she loves me. Always has she provided me with sweet smiles, gentle touches and tender kisses. She would stand by my side through anything, and everything. But she deserves the best. And I am not the best. However, I do not kill innocents. Not now. She will live. I know that she will forgive me, that she will release me from our vows with the utmost grace. She will continue to reserve those smiles and comforting touches for me. She will support my decision and tell me that she wishes for me to be happy. The best part of this (or perhaps the worst – certainly the hardest for me to think about) is that she will truly understand. Arwen will sacrifice the joy of the life that she believes she would have led with me, so that I can avoid the monstrous burden of guilt. But – she will be alive nonetheless. That which I will steal from her will the lesser of two evils. I will rob her of a short life filled with pain, and betrayal, alleviated only by brief flashes of joy. I will leave her with an eternity to learn all of the beauty that the world can afford. And she will forget me. 

Long have I agonized over this decision. But, in my heart, the choice has always been made. I have been forcefully blinding myself to a truth too painful to bear. I do love her, and I cannot contemplate a life without love. And yet, this music that wells up in my soul, which breaks through my heart like the sun after a thunderstorm, suggests that I have not chosen to forsake my only hope of happiness. Is there some other truth that I have refused to let myself see? 

A voice in the wild echoes the song in my heart. It is deep and resonant. It fills the empty places in the world…and in my soul. Thank the Gods for friends. I will never be truly alone. I have somehow managed to find a world in which I am more than accepted, I am required. In this world, my heavy human heart may bring pain, but it will never bring destruction. And I know that I can bring happiness, as well as love. My friends are tangible, earthy objects, which I have only to reach out and touch. I hold them near to my heart, rather than admire them from afar. And they thank me for it. Yes, I have found the world in which I belong, and my heart rejoices.

I join the voice amidst the trees with the song of joy that flows from my heart. There is a pause, a glance from a bright, searching brown eye. Let me join you in your happiness, my friend. Understanding dawns in the luminous gaze, and a quick smile meets mine, as our voices rise in harmony. There is beauty in the world, when you chose to see it. And I have opened my eyes. 

End

        *              *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the first, second, and third chapters! **Riley **– thank you – your encouragement and constant support means so much to me., hang on, we are really close to (gasp) actual character interaction!; **ice cream assassin** – thanks! Keep checking, because there are going to be new chapters soon!; **kiss** – I am so glad that you like my take on Aragorn. Thanks so much!; **Loki's Mom** – Actually, it is my evil plan to get people hooked, than make you wait for weeks! No..actually, that is just as tortourous for me, because I can't wait to get all of the lovely reviews! I'm so glad you like how its going!; **Zchan** – wow! You are so sweet! No, I don't write professionally, but I think I would like to try sometime. Thank you!; **Tigerbabe** – thanks for the detailed review! It is great to hear what people like best! And I guess I won't complain about not getting any criticism J!; **AJ Matthews** – I'm glad you liked it – I have always thought that it must be terribly hard for Aragorn to know that he is basically the cause of Arwen's death- it seems like that would be so hard to deal with. **Ka-lei** – a word that says how I feel – Thank You!  ;)  **All of you are amazing for taking the time to read, and to respond to my story – you have given me so much inspiration! I love writing for you! Thank you!**


	6. Luminescence

Luminescence

By Kitsune

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all of its characters clearly do not belong to me. They belong to the amazing J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm merely playing with their minds…(evil grin).

WARNING: This is SLASH. While there is no _explicit_ homosexual action, this story involves a man (male elf, really) in love with a man. If this bothers you, I am certainly not going to make you read it, and indeed kindly request that you take yourself elsewhere and read some of the lovely het works on ffnet. If you read the fic in spite of my warning, then don't complain to me!

Feedback: Please, please, please…yes, I am begging! I would like to know what you think of it – love it, hate it, don't get it- whatever! Just keep in mind that flames will be used to heat my very cold dorm room. (along with Lady Ariannya's hot water bottle)

Note: This is the sixth installment in the Double Edged series. This is the third from Aragorn's POV. Let me know what you think about it –. if you can offer some constructive criticism, I would really appreciate it! Keep reviewing, and I will keep writing! 

     *                 *                      *                      *                      *                      *

What is this feeling in my soul tonight? It is light as a feather, strong as an oak, and bright as the sun. It pierces my soul in a thousand different places. I have never experienced this before. And yet, I think perhaps that I have always felt it. Though it has remained suppressed into the darkest places of my psyche, places where pinpricks of light are obscured by unfeeling shadow. My heart swallowed up this soul-healing light with deliberate night, covering any remaining traces under my blinding affection for the Evenstar, and the black guilt I have felt for my mistreatment of her. It seems that it has begun to shine through the layers now that I have confronted my demons and dismissed the self-made treachery that has been eating at my soul. I shall always love Arwen, but I no longer shall know myself as the cause of her death. And this unknown luminescence creeps forth.

It was so very subtle at first. As though this brilliance was a living being, approaching cautiously for fear of alarming me, of scaring me away. It crept under the doors that I have kept locked in my mind. It broke in miniscule streams through the cracks of misdirection in my soul. It will bring into the light of day that which I have kept safely hidden. 

Though I may still wish to deny it, I know in the depths of my heart what this light is. If I am honest with myself, I must admit that I recognize this as the main component in my decision to cut loose the ties that bind me to Arwen. This is the thing that has whispered to my dreams, whispered of true love, not childish devotion. If this light had remained safely hidden, I would, perhaps, have been able to wed her and bear the weight of the death that I would impose upon her. For I would believe that I was killing her for love. And that would be worth it, would it not? I would die for love, and if I truly loved someone, that person's willingness to sacrifice so much would make the love that much stronger, that much more sacred. But the light infested my heart and showed me that to accept such a sacrifice from her would not humble me, nor elevate my love for her. It would repulse me. I would despise myself. Thus, I have no right to accept such a sacrifice from her. 

And so my heart has released her to the stars. She will live among the immortals for eternity, and I will allow myself to live a short but happy life. I hope. I would not have done so if this radiance had not manifested itself. I would either have killed her, or doomed myself to a life without love. And what good would that have done either of us? But this luminosity pools in my mind with the gaze of bright brown eyes. It gathers in my heart at the sound of a dear voice raised in song. It bursts from my skin at the brief, careless touch of a strong, pale hand. I have to bite my tongue in order to keep this brilliance contained. 

Never have I been so unable to control myself and my emotions. Always I have subjugated them to my will, stifling guilt, rejecting desire, burying loneliness. But this lightning dares to erupt from its confines within my skin at the most inopportune times. At night, while I am on watch, the others asleep, and my eyes drift to a certain prone form. At dawn, as we ready ourselves for the day and water runs over a finely featured face, cleansing and renewing. Under the heat of the sun, as we continue on our quest, and a lithe form skips over a tree root to land securely on a rock. In twilight when haunted eyes meet mine, then depart. 

I wish that I could shake my head, plead that I do not understand. But I do. Of all things, this is the one that I understand the best. It is primal. I think that it was built into the foundations of my soul. I think that it is a part of my soul. And I understand my soul.

I wish I could argue rationally with this newly revealed knowledge, protest that it is much too soon. I have been under the chains of a mismatched love for so long. Surely I need time to recover my heart. But that presents a problem. For, at some point, when I was not looking, my heart crept out of my body and into his. Perhaps that is why I could not fully give Arwen my heart. It has not been mine to give for a very long time. If I wish to reclaim it, I shall have to…What? Confess my mistake, and kindly request the return of my heart? He would laugh in my face (no, of course he wouldn't). Perhaps just to have it back as a loan? Until I have had time to adjust to the changes in my life? But, fundamentally, there have been no changes. I had blinded myself, piled on layers of fancy and created ideals. And now they have been cleared away, and I have been returned to myself. 

The most frustrating part of this dilemma is that I would normally turn to him for advice in matters of the heart. He has always been so in touch with his soul. He always know exactly what he wants, and why. There is no need for him to lie to himself. But, clearly, I cannot come to him with this particular question.

Truly, though, I already have my answer. I have always held this truth. It may take me a while to acknowledge it – my heart is too raw, my soul too young and inexperienced. But the answer exists within this light that burns inside of me. The hood has been taken off of my eyes, the jesses have been released, and I am eager to test my wings, for the first time. It remains to be seen whether I fly or fall. 

End

        *              *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Additional Author's Note – okay, and now we march boldly on to (gasp) Character Interaction. Clearly there are still some problems for Aragorn (and Legolas for that matter) to work out for himself. You don't just get over such an important relationship as Aragorn and Arwen shared. But, that will be dealt with one way or another in upcoming chapters. Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the first five chapters! **AJ Matthews – **here ya go, no need to beg (though it does amuse me greatly…); **Riley **– Thank you so much! I liked that line too, but I wasn't sure about the blundering bit, I'm glad that you said it seems like Aragorn, that makes me feel better!; **Lady Ariannya –** thanks for reviewing twice! Yeah, school's a pain, but I've been taking my frustration at classes out by writing, so I guess it's good for some things!; **Laika **– Wow, that is so touching. Thank you, and I will.; **ice cream assassin** – thank you! I'm glad that it Aragorn made sense to you. He sings a lot in the books (not as much as Legolas), and I think it is an integral part of his character. It also says why the elves tend to go for him! ;)  ;  **kiss **– thanks both for the sweet things you said, and for pointing out a quibble! I hope that I have explained that line a little bit more in this chapter. Tell me if it still doesn't work for you, and I will try to make what I am trying to get at. **All of you are amazing for taking the time to read, and to respond to my story – you have given me so much inspiration! I love writing for you! Thank you!**


	7. Night

Night

By Kitsune

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all of its characters clearly do not belong to me. They belong to the amazing J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm merely playing with their minds…(evil grin).

WARNING: This is SLASH. While there is no _explicit_ homosexual action, this story involves a man (male elf, really) in love with a man. If this bothers you, I am certainly not going to make you read it, and indeed kindly request that you take yourself elsewhere and read some of the lovely het works on ffnet. If you read the fic in spite of my warning, then don't complain to me!

Feedback: Please, please, please…yes, I am begging! I would like to know what you think of it – love it, hate it, don't get it- whatever! Just keep in mind that flames will be used to heat my very cold dorm room. (along with Lady Ariannya's hot water bottle)

Note: This is the seventh installment in the Double Edged series. This is the first with actual character interaction. I haven't had much practice writing pieces that involve more than just someone thinking, or people randomly hacking at things. I am trying to keep Legolas and Aragorn in character, make the situations at least semi-plausible, and to create some depth beyond throwing the two of them in the sack (tempting though that is…). So, please let me know what you think about it -if you can offer some constructive criticism, and hints on how to improve, I would really appreciate it! Reviews are, of course, much appreciated. Keep reviewing, and I will keep writing! 

     *                 *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Night breaks upon this world with a vengeance. Stars shine bright, but remote. Trees grow taller, blending night with shadow to create a darkness so profound that I feel as though I could not tell the difference if I closed my eyes. I can feel the difference, however. When I close my eyes, the dark is velvety and comforting. There is no comfort in this night.

I started a fire to cook upon, yet even its passionate flames seem cold. I am nevertheless thankful for anything that will break this bleak monotony. I have never before felt lonely while within sight of the stars. The dear, brilliant pinpricks of light have been my closest companions for more years than I care to think about. I do not lightly fill my nights with false companionship. Stars are honest and true. I know full well that though I may sing to them, though I may spill my heart out for the wind to carry upon shuddering wings unto their souls, though I may bask in their glow, I shall never be able to reach them. Nor would I ever attempt to. I do not make pretensions to the stars. I have always known where I stand with them, what I can give, and what I may expect to receive. I can share my soul, and in return, they will bring some light to my solitary dark. 

This night, though. This night seems to be trying to swallow the stars. Please, shadows, do not take the stars from me – they are all that I have! 

"Legolas?" A voice cuts through the gelatinous gloom, bringing momentary relief. I turn, and my eyes track to the source. Aragorn stands tall against the background of foreboding forest, silhouetted by the light of the fire. I cannot see his face, but the glimmering halo comes to life around him, crackling and sputtering. The stars seem to draw nearer, as though they too wish to hear his words. For a moment there is life in this barren land.

"I'm going to lie down now. Wake me at high moon." He pauses, and I can tell that he is looking at me. Some of the beams of his halo follow the path of his eye and warm themselves in my heart. "You are certain that you wish to take the first watch?" Ever the noble king watching out for his subjects. But I am not his countryman. I may warm myself by his fire, but I have no right to reap the rewards of his sacrifice. 

"Quite certain, friend. Rest well. I shall wake you when the time comes." He steps closer to the fire, to me, and I can see his eyes. They burn with life. And they shoot a suspicious gaze at me, as though he expects me to take the whole of the watch myself, granting him more sleep. No worries of that, my king. I know well that you are my equal and neither need nor desire coddling. Also, I do not wish to face this darkness all night. At least in my dreams I can wander lighted paths. The proud head dips in a nod. He accepts my word as the truth, and turns, receding into the dark. The halo diminishes, and all is cold. 

This darkness brings a twofold offering. Left alone at night, my demons creep out to feed on my soul. Yet the very darkness that empowers them also hides the damage that they wreck from concerned eyes. Aragorn asked this afternoon what it was that troubled me. His eyes were so intent, so very concerned. I have been ill tempered and quiet. I know this, and I do seek to appear more content than I feel. But it is hard even for one who has spent lifetimes training his body and emotions to be peaceful when I am ripped apart from the inside. I desire him. I care for him. Gods – I love him. I have made my choice, and I will stand by it, and by him, always. But how to tell him of this, I know not. Nor even if I should make the attempt. There are more fragile things in the air than my heart. Arwen, for one. Oh stars, how can I so betray a noble lady? Yet I cannot betray my own heart. Of course, I know nothing of Aragorn's feelings. Except – that he is engaged. And…that there has been a tension in the air between us. It started so gradually that I barely noticed. It has been growing stronger every day. Even a human's senses are not so dulled as to be oblivious to such obvious emotion. He trembled when he confronted me. Not very much at all – just a slight tremor that started at the small of his back and extended through his fingertips. He has never before seen cause to tremble from me. 

I cannot remember how I replied, so intent was I on avoiding the confession that trembled on my lips. Light, careless words flowed from my tongue – the wind had changed in an odd direction, or last night's dinner had not gone well with me – some such idle excuse. I know better than to pretend, even to myself, that he believed me. He had stood before me, gazing at me warily. The tiny hairs on the backs of his hands stood on end. Yet he accepted my excuse, let the matter fall heavily between us, where it resides still. Since then, he has trembled when he spoke to me. 

I hear him now, beyond the cold circle of the fire's meager light. He tosses in his bedroll. I wonder why he cannot sleep. This ground is smooth and even, quite comfortable by our recent standards. And surely he is exhausted by the toil we have faced, and the burden that we carry. There are hollows under his eyes, and a lean look to his cheeks that tell me he would eat voraciously if we had the food to spare. Sleep should be a welcome and timely visitor to him. 

Perhaps he longs for Arwen. Perhaps he fears for her. Or for himself. It is a hard path that he forces himself to travel. These cares have never so obviously robbed him of sleep though. Oh! Dear stars – mayhaps I am the cause of his unrest. I wish that it is not so, but the idea thought makes too much sense. He knows that something troubles me, and that I will not confess it to him. Never before have I been anything less than open and honest with him. What if he questions me, if he is uncertain in his trust of me? Certainly he knows that I would never betray him or our quest! But what other reason could his mind conceive for my actions? No – if he did not trust me, he would tell me so. He would confront me with his concerns immediately, rather than leave me to deal with mine in my own time. 

A chill races through my body, deeper than the cold brought by the lightness eve, racing along the seam that binds soul and body. Perhaps…he did not push for an answer because he does not wish to hear what I have to say…perhaps he knows what lies heavy in my heart, beating at my ribs, struggling to be let free…Oh, Heavens. He knows my love, and my hope must turn to shame. I have been foolish and weak to try to hide my folly. I must confess myself at once, and request his absolution. If he cannot return the sentiment, if he cannot understand, perhaps I will be able to persuade him to forget. I will speak to him tomorrow. I must salvage his friendship at least – for a live without his presence would be as a night without stars, and no chance for the dawn. Tomorrow. I must. I will. Oh, stars, do not desert me now!

        *              *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Additional Author's Note – well, so there was a little character interaction – sorry if I led you on. There will definitely be more in the next segment, and then, we will reach…duh duh duh…The Talk, and all will be revealed. Maybe. If I feel like it. ;) **Telcristiel the Elf Maiden** – thanks a lot! I will certainly try!;  **kiss **– Thanks so much! I couldn't quite see Aragorn admitting that someone has stolen his heart, but thought he might settle for loaning it out. I'm glad you liked the bird analogy Aragorn reminds me so much of a bird of prey. And I'm glad you liked that line – it was one of my favorites. **Chiya** – wow! You really want to quote me? That is more than fine with me…thanks! **Riley** – your reviews always make my day, though I don't think that you can get away with saying that you are jealous of my writing – I absolutely loved "New Emotions"! Dang, girl! But, anyhow, thanks – and I am glad you liked that line. For some reason I really like to give actions to inanimate objects. **Darth Maligna** – here ya go, and there is definitely more on the way! **Kenni'era the crazy** – actually, a round of applause would go quite a long way in heating up my room, as will your kind words! Thanks! **Loki's Mom**- My goodness, that is such a wonderful compliment. I am so glad that people enjoy my writing. Thank you ever so much. **Kenni'era the crazy (again)** – I'm happy it's working out all right for you. I am trying really hard to keep them from doing anything grossly OC. Thanks for reviewing twice! **Laika** – well, if you insist! Thank you for such a wonderful review – I am overwhelmed– it means so much to me! **Sam** – first off, Happy Birthday!, and secondly – thank you! I hate to say it, but I am thrilled to hear that I made you miserable! ;) **AJ Matthews** – Ah! Thanks – here is some more for you, and there will probably be another very soon (as in tomorrow, or Sat, as I don't have class! **V-Amy** – Thank you! It's good to know that I am managing the Arwen angle okay. **ice cream assassin** – yes, very sad that he let Arwen go, but you know, if you love something, you have to let it go…either that or throw it in bed and lock the door behind you! Hmmm…possibilities for the next couple of chapters abound…** All of you are absolutely wonderful people! Your reviews are so great – I just wish that I could write faster, to try to give bake some of the joy you bring me. I love writing for you! Thank you!**


	8. First Light

First Light

By Kitsune

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all of its characters clearly do not belong to me. They belong to the amazing J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm merely playing with their minds…(evil grin).

WARNING: This is SLASH. While there is no _explicit_ homosexual action, this story involves a man in love with a man (male elf, really). If this bothers you, I am certainly not going to make you read it, and indeed kindly request that you take yourself elsewhere and read some of the lovely het works on ffnet. If you read the fic in spite of my warning, then don't complain to me!

Feedback: Please, please, please…yes, I am begging! I would like to know what you think of it – love it, hate it, don't get it- whatever! Just keep in mind that flames will be used to heat my very cold dorm room. (along with Lady Ariannya's hot water bottle)

Note: This is the eighth installment in the Double Edged series, which means more character interaction! I hope this whole interaction thing is going okay, please let me know what you think about it -if you can offer some constructive criticism, and hints on how to improve, I would really appreciate it! Reviews are, of course, much appreciated. Keep reviewing, and I will keep writing! Also, does anyone want me to e-mail them when I update? Because I know that I add stuff very sporadically, and it's no trouble to send out a note if people want to know what's up. If you are interested, let me know, and give me your e-mail address. Right – on with the story!

     *                 *                      *                      *                      *                      *

The ground is cold and harsh beneath me. It seeps the warmth hungrily from my body, like a child suckling at its mother's breast. The earth here is level and smooth, cleared of all debris. My body is wearied from our travels, and my mind is exhausted from the questions and doubts that assail it. I have resolved my mind, and will absolve my heart. The grieve which has been worming its way deeper into my soul since I first set eyes on the Evenstar has loosened its coils, and begun to relax its grip. I should sleep while I am able. Sleep will soothe my overheated brain, restore the determination to my spirit, and help my body forget the sharp pangs of hunger that plague it. 

It is these very pangs that hold salvation at bay. My stomach cramps, my throat closes against my spine, and my mouth no longer has the strength required to water. Yet no amount of food or drink could relieve this famine. My body does not cry out for steak, does not beg for hearty gruel, nor plead for stew. Even a meal prepared by the most capable of the Elves' chefs would find no welcome in my mouth. No, my rebellious body hungers for something of a quite different nature.

My eyes fasten on pale, smooth skin stretched over corded muscle. My teeth desire to plunge into the choicest of all meats, to judge its consistency for themselves. My stomach rumbles at the subtle hint of the sustenance afforded by desperate cries. My lips tremble with masochistic anticipation of the learning new textures. My tongue longs to discover the unknown taste of a soft, entreating mouth. 

Desires that have been long repressed beneath the weight of more pressing matters (forgive me, Arwen) flood my body, and my soul. They wheedled their way in through the cracks in my armor of ignorance, and have opened the floodgates. What first made its presence know as a tiny trickle has metamorphed into a raging river that carries me along with it. I am powerless to fight it. But I must. Surely I cannot give in…

He has been quiet and withdrawn. When his voice makes an appearance, it is brief, low, and nearly curt. Long I have known him, and never before has he been short with me. It is clear that some care plagues his mind, and grants him no reprieve. Yet when I questioned him earlier, his eyes refused to meet mine, and he passed off his unease upon his concern that our food supplies were growing low. He lied to me. Legolas has never lied to me. He has never had any need. What can possible be the cause for his current reticence?

My shoulder and hipbones dig into the softly packed soil beneath me as I again adjust my position, rolling onto my side. Yet another futile attempt to relieve the discomfort of my body. This time though, my uneasiness is increased as luminous eyes track from the shadows beyond the meager firelight to my location. My breath lodges itself in my throat, my lungs freeze on the inhale, half-full. My body is almost unnaturally still. I silently will the Elf prince to look away. I cannot feel my body with his eyes so intent upon me. My own eyelids squeeze shut. He will, of course, know that I do not sleep. Oh, gods, I hope that he will pass it off. Take no notice, Legolas. Return to your watch over the darkness beyond our camp. Just do not stare at me so. I am not thinking correctly, my mind is muddled, and the demands of my body increase exponentially. If he would only look away! I cannot control my desires for long. If he continues to fix those bright eyes (how is it possible that I see them with my eyes shut?) upon my figure, I am quite likely to do something that I am certain that I will regret. I am breaking! I shall either explode and tell him off much more loudly and unkindly than is appropriate, or I shall assault him with my needs, desperately press our bodies together, bear him sweetly to the ground, join my mouth to his…Oh! I cannot think about that! I must not! I must…

Thank the heavens. His eyes have turned away, and again I can breathe, draw the rest of the breath into my body, and release the tension that has built up in that eternal moment. When did I grow so incapable of controlling myself? In these circumstances, my lack of self-control could prove disastrous. What if we were attacked because I was mooning over an elf instead of watching for enemies? How could I possibly forgive myself? I must remedy this situation. I will tell him of my weakness. Perhaps he will scorn me, or reject me, but surely he will understand that it is better for me to admit to my failing than to repress it and thereby ruin our chances to fulfill our mission. Surely he will not hate me…Gods, do not let him hate me! I am only human. He has always understood my limitations, and expected me to do all that I am capable of within their borders. He will trust that I have done all that I can. He will not blame me for my inability to do more. He can't. He mustn't. For without his understanding, and his acceptance, the strings that have held my soul together will grow frail and bitter, and will snap. I would lose myself without him. 

And…perhaps…if I am very lucky, and the stars choose to smile upon me…No. I will not allow myself to fall under the sway of false hopes. Whatever must be, will be. And I shall do all that I can to be deserving, if not of his love, then of his friendship. I shall not betray him by letting my shortcomings rule me.  

"Aragorn. The moon has reached her height." The soft voice wraps around me, pulling me from my thoughts. I search the darkness with wary eyes. He is clearly outlined by the glow of the fire behind him. His voice is much gentler than the brisk tones he has been using, but his face is distant, his gaze fixed on some far away point. As much as I had been trepidatious of his eyes settling upon me again, I feel the lack of such connection much more. The distance which he creates cuts through my addled mind, bringing a swift shot of clarity.

I struggle to my feet. My body feels as though it has been through an intensive training section. My legs are unsteady, and my skin twitches almost imperceptibly. A hand that is the color of the moonlight grasps my forearm, pulling me into a sturdier stance. I can feel his heartbeat throbbing from depths hidden by strong muscle and impenetrable skin, thundering through the cloth on my arm, and tattooing its rhythm into my skin and my soul. The hand travels slightly down my sleeve as his living brown eyes finally fasten upon my face, though they still avoid my eyes. But when smooth, bow-calloused skin meets the rough, battlehardened leather of my own hand, and the tremble that has taken up residence under my skin races through the point of contact to surge through his body, his strict control is momentarily lost. Deep-souled eyes are startled into contact with mine. I can see the tremor as it carves a path through his soul. For just a moment, I allow myself to follow the fresh road to his heart. My peripheral vision shrinks, everything around his eyes grow dim, and I begin to see the chinks in his soul's armor. But the dry palm is withdrawn, the control regained, eyes averted, and all contact is lost. 

I nod – indicating either my acceptance of his reluctance, or my thanks for the awakening. He can interpret it as he chooses. The shadows swallow him from view of my mortal eyes as he takes my place on the floor and I head to claim his previous station. The night is thick, cold, and lonely. But I shall hold my post, warmed from the inside by the flame I barely saw kindling in his eye. The night is dark indeed, but the morn draws ever near. 

        *              *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Additional Author's Note – okay, I admit it – I am a tease. I hope you liked it! My thanks to everyone who reviewed the previous chapters. **ice cream assassin** – I'm hurrying! I promise! **Jessica **– sorry about the lack of dialogue! Thanks for reviewing, clearly you are not a bad person! ;) **Kelly** – well, I do have this little idea about a L/B…so, we'll see! **Riley** – thank you so much! I am glad that you liked that line. The titles for the last two chapters, as well as the next one sort of come from it, so it is pretty crucial. At least, in my mind. **Loki's Mom** – oh, thank you! I'm so glad that you like all of the pain. It's nice to know that I am not making them suffer for nothing! **Laika **– wow, that is awfully kind of you. Thank you. **Lady Ariannya** – yeah, Arwen's got it hard, but if everyone else has to suffer, then so should she. And I am sure she will get over it eventually…right? **Lady Ariannya (again)** – I'm honored…and I will hold you to your promise!** Lady Amaryllis **– here is some lovely Lothlorien rope to hold you up until we make it to the conclusion. Hope your hands don't get tired!  **AJ Matthews** – This one was a little longer – sorry, I tend to write in short, periodic bursts. And we can't make it to easy for our dear boys, can we? They have to earn the right to…well, let's just say raise the rating for the story, and leave it at that, shall we? **Sam** – umm… I have a confession to make…I sorta stole a line from your review, because it was soo true. Thanks so much. Hope you don't mind? **All of you are absolutely wonderful people! Your reviews are so amazingly sweet - I really appreciate each one of you! I love writing for you! Thank you!**


	9. Dawn

Dawn

By Kitsune

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all of its characters clearly do not belong to me. They belong to the amazing J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm merely playing with their minds…(evil grin).

WARNING: This is SLASH. While there is no _explicit_ homosexual action, this story involves a man in love with a man (male elf, really). If this bothers you, I am certainly not going to make you read it, and indeed kindly request that you take yourself elsewhere and read some of the lovely het works on ffnet. If you read the fic in spite of my warning, then don't complain to me!

Feedback: Please, please, please…yes, I am begging! I would like to know what you think of it – love it, hate it, don't get it- whatever! Just keep in mind that flames will be used to heat my very cold dorm room. (along with Lady Ariannya's hot water bottle)

Note: This is the ninth installment in the Double Edged series, only one more chapter in this series! Thanks for hanging in there with me. Keep reviewing, and I will keep writing! Also, does anyone want me to e-mail them when I update? Because I know that I add stuff very sporadically, and it's no trouble to send out a note if people want to know what's up. If you are interested, let me know, and give me your e-mail address. Right – on with the story!

     *                 *                      *                      *                      *                      *

The fiery sun bravely raises its face above the mountains that lie to the east, casting golden threads through the trees. The fingers of rosy flame race between branches and leaves, growing bolder as they continue their journey. The small stream that we have camped beside is drawn into their play, and transformed into a flow of molten sunlight. Dawn has arrived, trumpeting her return triumphantly, and banishing the dark fibers of night and shadow.

I rise, stretch my weary limbs, and throw back my head to drink in the brilliant beams that wash over my face. I am filled with live, and with courage. I will reveal my heart, subject it to his scrutiny, expose it to the daylight, and wait for it to be pierced by either the spears of rejection or the arrows of hope. 

Legolas lies upon the soft ground of the clearing, arms crossed over his chest, legs straight, and eyes open and unseeing. His blond hair frames his face, and reflects the reddish cast of the sun, creating the illusion of an ice statue sleeping on a bed of flames. But I know that his skin is warm to the touch, and welcoming, altogether unlike the icy fingers of an inanimate. His skin is warmed by the blood that flows through his veins in search of his heart, by miniscule contractions of the layers of wiry muscle, by the light of the pure soul that has chosen to reside on this earth. It would be a crime to wake him and disturb a moment of such peace. In this war-torn world, every hint of peace should be cherished. And yet… I must. I must speak my soul while I have the strength. 

My hand creeps to his face of its own accord. I can only stare, fascinated, as it dares to sweep over the fine features, almost but not quite, touching. It brushes a strand of golden hair away from his fine eyes, leading it to join its brethren behind his perfectly sculpted, curving ear. Then, impudently, it returns to the innocent face, and wanders over the soft planes and curves of cheek, eyebrow, forehead, and lips. Thankfully, it is not so impious as to attempt to claim the beauty for itself, but only to worship its owner. A single finger extends to travel along the smooth line of a pale cheek, and a soft whisper, a blessing or a prayer, escapes from my mouth. "Legolas."

The reaction is instantaneous. The veil lifts from vivid brown eyes, and his soul floods back into his body, leaving behind whatever trails of dreams it had been perusing. The thin lips, made something otherworldly by the ethereal light the dawn casts over the world, part and inhale. I swear that I can almost see the particles of air traipsing slowly to fill his lungs. Is it the time of day that makes everything feel as though the world has ceased turning, and the flow of the river of time appear to be halted? His eyes meet mine, and for a moment (or an eternity) I am blinded by the brilliance of the spirit revealed within him. 

The moment is not broken, but is certainly transformed, when he moves to sit up, and my hand withdraws itself. The texture of his skin will forever be imprinted upon that fingertip. I have that, at least. I cannot lose this chance. 

"Legolas, I would speak with you, if you will listen. There are matters which weigh heavily upon my mind." His gaze is removed, but before I lose the contact completely, I see a fleeting frown of suspicion lingering within his eyes.

"We have far to travel today…But…Yes. We should speak. There are things which I must disclose to you as well." He will not meet my eyes, and he pulls his legs up to his chest, embracing his knees with arms that I suspect tremble. Can he know what I am going to say? Does he fear it so? Perhaps I should stop here, make some idle conversation about our direction, or the weather. No. I have begun this, and I will see it through to the end. To whatever end. 

I have been kneeling, my knees pressed harshly into the earth, and I shift, settling against the trunk of a tree. I focus my eyes just below the glare of the sun, in that land which is in between heaven and earth.

"I have long carried a secret which has … has tormented me." With my peripheral vision, I see brown eyes dart to my face, than away. "I…I have struggled to make the best decision. I do not wish to harm an innocent…"

"Aragorn…" His voice is gruff, startling me into looking at him. 

"Please, my friend, allow me to unburden my heart." He pauses, then nods, reluctantly. I take a deep breath, trying to settle my mind into some semblance of order. Far above us a bird coasts across the glowing ambers, pinks, and purples that the sun has painted the sky with. I allow my eyes to track its progress.

"For many years I have abided by an agreement that I do not feel I can carry out in good conscience. I find…I find that I cannot keep my vows, nor uphold my side of the contract." The bird wheels and dives between the mountains, vanishing. I find myself staring at Legolas. By all the Gods. Beauty cannot aspire to describe him. Pure, perhaps, comes a little closer. And Good. Wholly and entirely Good. I feel the knowledge cement in my heart, resonate through my soul, and allow the words to flow out of my mouth. Finally.

"I cannot wed Arwen." 

Silence. He stares at me now, as near to dumbstruck as I have ever seen an elf. His mouth is open slightly, his eyes wide. Whatever he had expected me to say, it was not those words.  I pull my eyes away from his face, and watch as the bird (falcon, I believe) renews its acquaintance with the sun, flirting mischievously with the clouds. I feel truly released. It was one thing to make the decision in my mind, but to speak the words, to give them birth and being – that has made all of the difference. I feel that I can live now. I feel that I can love. 

A breath escapes him, sounding a little like a sigh. "Aragorn…are you certain? Arwen."

"Arwen will live. She will forgive me, and, eventually, she will forget me. And I can continue to carry myself proudly. I can sleep at night, secure in the knowledge that I have done what I can to preserve some of the good and some of the beautiful that is meant to exist." The falcon flits through the sharp peaks in the Southwest, then turns and soars towards our little clearing. "I do love her, Legolas, but as a bird loves the sun. Or as a pond loves the ocean. She was never meant for me. And I refuse to sacrifice her to an inadequate love. What we share is not the stuff that dreams are made of, nor songs spun of. There is true love in this world, I am sure, and if any creature deserved a chance to find it, Arwen does. And she will have eternity to search."

A gentle hand grips my upper arm, and pulls my gaze back to this world. "And what of you? Do you find yourself so undeserving? What of your own chance at love? "

 His voice sounds deep, as though it is coming to me from the depths of the sea. He stares intently at my face, searching, I think, for the truth in my words. The time has come, and I open my heart, break down the barriers between the light and my hidden soul, and let the truth reveal itself for him.

"I have no need to search for love." Our eyes meet, and I know that he cannot deny the force of my emotions. I can feel my love for this perfect being welling up from the recesses of our joined souls, flooding my body, and pouring out of my eyes, like beams from the sun. His eyes widen, his mouth falls open over a startled, "oh." The truth has been brought to light, and there is no going back now. This moment will forever be seared into my soul, like the feeling of his skin is imprinted on my fingertip. Just one perfect moment. My hands come up from my sides, fingers unfurling from the fists they have been clenched into, and cup his face, oh so softly. My body leans forward as I gently tilt his head forward. Our lips meet, and I find perfection in the blush of dawn. 

I pull slowly away after the most chaste, and loving, kiss that I have ever delivered. I want to see his eyes, to judge whether he understands, and what his decision is, before I press any further. I could happily remain in this rose-colored clearing for the rest of my days, but I must be certain that he feels the same. His eyes are closed, eyelashes fluttering softly against his cheekbones, casting dark shadows on his skin. His pale moonlight face is flushed with the colors of the sun. His lips tremble so slightly, parted in the smallest degree. Perfect. 

His eyelids shudder, then part, and he looks at me through melted eyes. My thumb gently caresses the downy skin in front of his ear, encouraging. He blinks at me, unmoving in any other respects, and a silver tear forms at the corner of earthen eyes. Forms, and falls, tracing a sodden path down the sloping features. 

I am grounded so suddenly that I feel a physical shock. I have been flying on the wings of the falcon, far removed from this world. I let my emotions rule me, and took advantage of yet another innocent. It seems that I cannot see beauty without seeking to destroy it. I cannot find perfection without soiling it. 

I jerk my hands away from his face (they must burn him!) and stumble to my feet. I think that I mumble an apology (no apology will ever suffice) as I turn from him, closing my eyes, desperate to block out the sight of a tear falling from uncertain eyes. I run into the forest, crashing through the underbrush, trying to avoid the betrayed and forsaken expression that haunts my mind. Dear Gods! He does not love me, though he would do anything for me – but I cannot accept his willing ruin anymore than I could accept Arwen's. I was mistaken. Oh heavens, I am vile! Oh, what have I done?

        *              *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Additional Author's Note – hee hee..and you all thought this was going to be a happy chapter, didn't you?  Sorry… ;) My thanks to everyone who reviewed the previous chapters. **Lady Ariannya** – I got you stuck on LOTR again? Then I have done my good deed for today! **Jellibeana** – A convert? Wonderful! Soon slash can take over the world! Oh, wouldn't that be great?  **Jellibeana** (again) – Thanks so much! (well, it's not purely for the sake of getting them in the sack!) **AJ Matthews** – Man, no kidding! I can't get these two to do anything I want them to! Pigheaded brats! ;) **Riley **– I am glad that you liked it – and I hope that you are feeling better! Be sure to drink plenty of OJ. **Ice cream assassin** – thanks for reassuring me that I am not making A&L totally ooc. Hope you still think so! **Laika** – I'm still being naughty. Sorry. And while, this part of the story is almost done, that doesn't necessarily mean that I won't write anymore little inserts about this plotline – for instance, Aragorn will have to tell Arwen about his decision, and it might be cruel to leave him to do that by himself!  **Valerie** – thanks so much! I am glad that you like it!  **Valerie** (again) – sorry to have kept you waiting. The next chapter will definitely be up sooner. **Darth Maligna** – why, thank you! For both comments! ;)  **Jessica **– I hope that you still think this was worthwhile! **All of you are absolutely wonderful people! Your reviews are so amazingly sweet - I really appreciate each one of you! I love writing for you! Thank you!**


	10. DayBreak

DayBreak

By Kitsune

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all of its characters clearly do not belong to me. They belong to the amazing J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm merely playing with their minds…(evil grin).

WARNING: This is SLASH. While there is no _explicit_ homosexual action, this story involves a man (male elf, really) in love with a man. If this bothers you, I am certainly not going to make you read it, and indeed kindly request that you take yourself elsewhere and read some of the lovely het works on ffnet. If you read the fic in spite of my warning, then don't complain to me!

Feedback: Please, please, please…yes, I am begging! I would like to know what you think of it – love it, hate it, don't get it- whatever! Just keep in mind that flames will be used to heat my very cold dorm room. (along with Lady Ariannya's hot water bottle)

Note: Okay, so I lied. There was only supposed to be ten chapters in this story, but Legolas demanded to have his say, and I didn't want to smush stuff together. I think that you guys deserve two decently written chapters, rather than a single longer chapter that is hasty, jam-packed, and not very well thought out. Thanks for hanging in there with me. Keep reviewing, and I will keep writing! Also, does anyone want me to e-mail them when I update? Because I know that I add stuff very sporadically, and it's no trouble to send out a note if people want to know what's up. If you are interested, let me know, and give me your e-mail address. Right – on with the story!

     *                 *                      *                      *                      *                      *

There is solace in dreams even while none can be found in the living world. So many treasures of my own creation have I discovered in wanderings along the moonlight paths. I do not require a great deal of sleep, but I do need my dreams. It is only amidst the smoky tendrils of their caress that I can relive victories, fight in glorious battles from long before my time, or pull the veils from some of the deepest truths of my heart. Only in my dreams may I freely cherish a secret love. There is no guilt when the arms of a fantasy shade wrap around a dreamsweetened ethereal body. There is no reason why the lips of my soul's figure should not worship purely imagined flesh. There are no heartwrenching decisions to be made before my mental mind can silently sigh his name. There is no fear either of abandonment or rejection – my dreams cannot leave me. I shall ever be able to find some modicum of comfort in the arms of dreams.

I took Aragorn's place after waking him for the watch, letting the residual warmth of his body thaw my frozen flesh. My conviction to admit to him my weakness has solidified into a pit of ice in my soul, and it denies all heat save his. And, entrapped within a seething turmoil I have never experienced before, it is to my dreams that I turn. I know well that I should not, but on this dark and comfortless night, it is the paths of desire that I blindly tread. 

My dreamlover may not be substantial as the flesh and bone Man upon which he is based, but neither does he bear such burdens. I am free to run hungered airy fingers over nonexistent skin, and revel in the sensation. Certainly this half-life is nowhere near so satisfying as the true world experiences of the same would be, yet this is what I am given, and I could never turn him away, in any form. My mind and soul float in the delicate net woven of strands of love, and desire, affection and sensation, while my body is gripped in the harsh hands of another night alone. 

As my dream Aragorn soothes my face with a loving finger, his voice sighs my name, and for a moment the worlds merge, dream and reality are become one.  The Man born only of my heart, who lives only in wisps of my soul, is given breath, swelled into actuality with body and spirit. Then the mists of sleep clear from my eyes, and only Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, promised love of Arwen Undomiel, remains before me.  Yet this Aragorn also touches my cheek with a single finger, and my skin burns with desire. My eyes are caught within his, and it seems, for just a moment (or an eternity), that more smolders inside them than the gentle warmth of friendship. I see in this instant his strength, his honor, and above all the flame of his passion for life. At this second, he is held for all time, preserved as an immortal fire that cannot cease. His soul transcends life. The light of his soul will illuminate all that are yet to come, and will guide them as the northern star shows sailors safely through tempests. In this moment he will live forever. 

Then his hand withdraws, and I am left only with the impression of his flame seared upon my mind's eye, and on a small patch of skin on my cheek, that will forever recall his touch. An everlasting scar upon my soul that I shall cherish for all of my days.

His eyes are clear, yet hesitant when he addresses me, "Legolas, I would speak with you, if you will listen. There are matters which weigh heavily upon my mind." Sudden suspicion floods my brain. I thought last night that he had divined my secret. But will he speak openly about it? Perhaps it is something altogether different. I am not ready to explain myself yet. I need…to wash my face first, cleanse myself of the cobwebs of sleep (and of my dreams). I pull inside of myself, physically drawing my legs up against my chest, as though I can barricade myself from some verbal attack. It is with caution and doubt that I agree to hear his words.

"I have long carried a secret which has … has tormented me." He has carried a secret? Oh Dear Gods! How long has he known? I chance a brief glance at his face. His eyes are fixed on the horizon, watching the sun paint the sky with her first hues. The warm colors cast a softness upon him that is entirely out of place with the accusation I fear he is preparing to make. I cannot stand to see such beauty, such perfection, and know that I have soiled it with my betrayal. I look away, my eyes darting nervously through the trees that encircle us. Perhaps a timely intrusion of orcs… Yet none come, and he continues, voice shaking ever so slightly. Gods, How could I have brought this upon him?

 "I…I have struggled to make the best decision. I do not wish to harm an innocent…" 

I cannot let him continue. If I confess, perhaps he will hear me out. If I can make him understand how I have struggled to avoid hurting him. "Aragorn…" 

But he looks at me, and the expression in his eyes – almost deadened – kills the words in my throat. 

"Please, my friend, allow me to unburden my heart." His eyes plead with me, and I am no more capable of denying him now, than I ever have been. I nod, reluctantly. I have sinned against him, and it is the least I can do to accept my punishment nobly. I steel my heart as I wait for his condemnation. 

"For many years I have abided by an agreement that I do not feel I can carry out in good conscience. I find…I find that I cannot keep my vows, nor uphold my side of the contract." The crime has been committed, the criminal found guilty, and the punishment dealt. He does not wish for me to remain by his side. I understand, of course, but my heart is riveted with numberless fissures, tiny and deep. The one penalty that I know I cannot bear is the one that I must accept. Oh, how is this to be done? His gaze fastens upon me, and I am struck anew by his beauty, and his goodness. He loves Arwen with a love so pure and untainted that this world has never seen its equal. That love shines out of his eyes, and lays his soul bare. I have trespassed upon a sacred thing. I will bear the terrible weight of his judgment, because it is the only thing possible for me to do. I will bear it because I must. And my soul shall die.

It seems to me that all of the necessary words have been said, but he opens his mouth to speak again.

"I cannot wed Arwen." 

Silence. I am utterly blindsided. I cannot begin to rationalize where this decision has come from, nor what it has to do with his rejection of me. It takes one very long and very still moment until my befuddled mind begins to wonder if, perhaps, I have misread the whole situation. Clearly this would be an agonizing decision to make, and possibly, this was the agony that has filled his mind…In which case…he may not know of my feelings for him. Dear Gods. I feel as thought I have been reborn. No, more than that. I draw in a slow, delicious breath, and it is as though I have never had the joy of breathing before. I will not lose him. I have learned from my mistakes, and if I can only stay with him, then I can force my heart to be happy with friendship. Oh, but to be allowed to serve him! I will not ruin this chance. I will perform my apparently settled role of confidant to perfection. It is under this realization that I can finally formulate the correct response, and I release my first breath, and ask if he is certain. I feel it is my duty to point out that Arwen cares deeply for him, and would have done so (though it fracture my swiftly mending heart anew), but he cuts me off.

"Arwen will live. She will forgive me, and, eventually, she will forget me. And I can continue to carry myself proudly. I can sleep at night, secure in the knowledge that I have done what I can to preserve some of the good and some of the beautiful that is meant to exist." I had not realized that her love weighed so heavily on his heart, but with these fresh eyes I can understand. He knows that in accepting her as his wife, he will effectually kill her. And I know that he could never condone such an act. But his love for her…The love that I still see blazing in his eyes as he fixes them on some faraway unknown…Surely he must realize that this love is worth dying for. To have a chance at such a blessing…He continues, unaware of my thoughts, yet paralleling them.

 "I do love her, Legolas, but as a bird loves the sun. Or as a pond loves the ocean. She was never meant for me. And I refuse to sacrifice her to an inadequate love. What we share is not the stuff that dreams are made of, nor songs spun of. There is true love in this world, I am sure, and if any creature deserved a chance to find it, Arwen does. And she will have eternity to search."

Could I have been so mistaken? The emotion that I sensed within him is no insignificant love. It is something divine, created and delivered by the hands of the Gods. As is only fitting for so noble a Man. As is fit for the King. Perhaps he mistakenly believes that this is a one-sided gift. Though it tears my soul, I force myself to accept that it is my role to ensure that he not lose such happiness. I grasp his arm gently, ignoring the jolts that it sends to my heart, and conjure my voice from where it has fled to the depths of my soul, to ask, "And what of you? Do you find yourself so undeserving? What of your own chance at love? "

I search his face for the truth. If he does not love Arwen… His eyes meet mine, and the love that I had seen, pure and unsullied as the colors of daybreak, pour out of his soul laid bare. All of the barriers that I have felt built up between us are dissolved by the immense _rightness_ of the feeling, and I finally see the truth.

"I have no need to search for love." He speaks words that carry his meaning upon a swift shaft of pure light directly to my heart. I have been so mislead by my own stupidity. The love that I saw does indeed exist within his heart, but it was at whom that love is directed that I have not seen. The gods have blessed me beyond anything that I could have imagined, and have shared with me a bit of their grace. I can find no words other than a startled, "oh." But I finally understand, and the understanding reshapes my soul. No longer scarred by his touch, but brought fully into being by his heart. I shall never lose this moment. It is what I have been searching for all of my life. His hands rise again to meet my skin, and he draws my face forward. Our lips meet and I find completion within his soul. 

The moment stills, then stretches, defining me forever. When he pulls away I keep my eyes closed, clinging to the perfection. But then I realize that I do not have to cling to it, for as long as he loves me I will always have this moment. It will be secured within every breath that I take and every second that he lives. I open my eyes, wishing to see him and share this beauty. His eyes are clear and happy, for the first time in so long as I have known him, the happiness is not tempered with sorrow. It is a sobering and humbling realization that I am such as can give this to him. A tear forms in my eye. A tear of joy, of completion, perfection, and gratitude. Forms, and falls, tracing its way down my skin, and over the spot that first, and still, burned with his touch.  

So wrapped in emotion am I that it take a moment for me to recognize that a transition has occurred. No longer do his eyes broadcast love. The walls have been rebuilt, and the doors closed. I am cut off from my soul with a harshness that is almost physical. He stumbles clumsily to his feet, muttering half-swallowed words that sound like "I'm sorry." Then he is gone, racing into the forest, and I am left alone, bereft, slowly going cold and bleeding inside.  

        *              *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Additional Author's Note – Okay, now there is really only one more chapter.  Sorry… ;) My thanks to everyone who reviewed the previous chapters. **AJ Matthews** – sorry, had to drag it out just a little longer. At least there is some more angst for you! **ice cream assassin** – did you really cry? Whoo-hoo!…umm, I mean, gosh, I'm sorry…  **Kittykat** – wow, thank you! I certainly plan on continuing to write as long as people are interested in reading it. And, I do have one other fic up…ya know, if you're interested… ;) **bitchylemonaddict** – Thanks! I am glad that you liked it. There wasn't much Aragorn torture in this chapter, at least, …sorry to keep you in suspense for more action though! **Riley** – Thank you. I am glad you liked that falcon part – I don't know where it came from, but Aragorn was very insistent upon it. Glad you're feeling better! **Laika** – See, Legolas didn't mean to blow it! Thank you for your kind words – I am so glad that you like how I write! **Keithan** – My god! Thank you so much. I really appreciate hearing which parts in particular people like and dislike – beyond just boosting my ego (which is a wonderful thin in and of itself) I think that it helps me to write better. It is amazingly sweet of you to say that I pull readers into my world. I am touched. Thank you again. **Jessica** – Thank you! Next chapter, I promise! And it should be up pretty soon – Saturday at the latest.  **All of you are absolutely terrific people! Your reviews are so wonderful- I really appreciate each one of you! I love writing for you! Thank you!**


	11. Heaven

Heaven

By Kitsune

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all of its characters clearly do not belong to me. They belong to the amazing J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm merely playing with their minds…(evil grin).

WARNING: This is SLASH. While there is no _explicit_ homosexual action, this story involves a man (male elf, really) in love with a man. If this bothers you, I am certainly not going to make you read it, and indeed kindly request that you take yourself elsewhere and read some of the lovely het works on ffnet. If you read the fic in spite of my warning, then don't complain to me!

Feedback: Please, please, please…yes, I am begging! I would like to know what you think of it – love it, hate it, don't get it- whatever! Just keep in mind that flames will be used to heat my very cold dorm room. (along with Betterflyz' hot water bottle)

Note: Phew. Well, you have before you the last chapter of the Double Edged series. The suspense I have kept our poor boys in will be resolved…one way or another. I know this has been a long ride, and I thank you all for coming along on it with me. I hope you like. This probably will not be the last look we have of this universe, but I do want to work on my "Glimpses" for a little while. Anyhoo, here ya go – have fun! 

     *                 *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Dear Gods, what has happened? What have I done? For one crystalline second the world made sense, and the edges of the universe lined up within my soul. For one pure moment I touched the sun. I gained completion, achieved perfect, oh, _with him_! Then my heat burned the sun, and the light in his eyes disappeared. He fled, followed the lost light. And I am again alone, though the agony of solitude has increased tenfold, for now I know what it is to be without loneliness. 

The sunset has faded, and the sky has been bleached to a pale, hazy blue, more deserving the sparkling parched heat of desert than the lush green this emerald glade. The brook beside our camp bubbles merrily, humming to itself and all of the world that it is on its way, after twisting through the innards of the boiling and heaving earth, finally awake and sparkling in the sun, in search of the sea. In search of completion. Dear Gods.

Was it something I did? I have joined my lips with others before, and never have they run from me so. But…I have never felt this hunger inside my soul, either. Perhaps he has seen the depths and strength of my heart, and was frightened. But that Aragorn should be so easily frightened…

Possibly I was mistaken. I cannot recall who initiated the kiss, but if it was me – due to my interpretation of his words, and the love in his eyes- and if my interpretation was false…I am certain that it was love in his eyes, shining with all its muted and tarnished glory. But, he did not say that its object was myself. He did not say he loves me…and, indeed I have not known him to fall sway to the harsh elegance of another man's body, but only to the soft comfort offered by woman. If I was wrong, and acted too quickly…yes. That must be so. He loves another. Some nameless, faceless woman, whom I nevertheless already pity, condone, and despise. Oh, Sun above…What have I done!

            *                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Muted warm browns, crushed jades, hectic emeralds, and tragic opal flashes swarm and coagulate in my streaked vision, running and blurring with my pain into a nameless void. Choked gasps and broken breaths (which could almost be mistaken for desperate sobs) force their way to my ears, and pierce my conscious. I feel my chest heave, my nose runs, and I know where such pathetic sounds originate. Pathetic. How utterly suiting. I. Am. Pathetic. 

The single harsh cadence of the word forms a litany in my mind which worms its way, black and destructive, through my soul, forcing my feet to pound in concert with it. After finding myself so deformed as not to be able to love the world's brightest jewel…To believe that I could trade one jewel for another, more clear and pure, more to my liking…The gods take offense when one refuses their gifts. 

My feet enter a shock of cold and wet, slip on mossy rocks, stumble, graceless, and cease their headlong rush. I find myself shaking and dripping in the middle of the small, happy brook. I should regain my feet, run again, far away, where I can never again take such presumptions. I should take myself to a place where I can never again hurt him. Never again.

But my body refuses to obey the pleadings of my soul. Battered and bruising from my stupid but necessary dash through the trees and brush, while still exhausted from the lack of sleep, my trembling mortal body can only shiver in the water. Who says hell is a pit of fire? Hell is six inches of ice cold melted snow flowing joyfully over a broken spirit. 

I thought…Oh Gods forgive me…I thought for that perfect moment that he understood. And that he wanted it too, when I bent my head and angled my mouth against his. I thought that it was _right, _that what I felt pooling in my stomach and clogging my veins was love. But love unrequited is not love. It is…pathetic. He let me do it – allowed me to violate his body and desecrate his soul with my unworthy skin and pitiful heart. Always the true friend. Perhaps he would even have let me continue, passively and gracefully fallen to the ground when I urged him down into deeper embraces and sins. But I saw the tear. I have seen an elf cry twice in my life. It costs them a piece of their soul. And I refuse to take anymore from him than I already have. He will not cry because of me again. 

        *              *                      *                      *                      *                      *

A soft keening reaches my ears, stretches inside, and grasps my heart with icy fingers. I cannot breathe. Much as I would wish to hide my head, my shame, to search for an impossible death, I cannot deny its claim. Though it is I who has caused such turmoil, it must also fall to me to soothe it, as best I can. Though my body protests, limbs aching and joints locking, I crawl to my feet, and wobble, unsteady. He plunged into the forest, and I could easily track his path, but the stream carries his whimpers to me. I shall follow the path, down into hell if need be. 

For there is no one else here, and I have hurt him. Have assumed too much, and have taken what was never meant to be mine. It is my duty to find some solution. I will hunt him down, face him bravely, and lie with clear eyes, if I must. Though it shall twist deeper this evil blade that I have lodged in my guts. I gather up the razor sharp pieces of my shattered soul, and go in search of the one I love. To convince him that I do not. 

Dear Gods, let me be able to make it right. Though I fear this shall prove impossible. His muffled gasps could make the earth tremble with the strength of their pain. I have betrayed him grievously. It will not happen again. Never again. 

The sunlight carves out a path of twinkling starlight water which curves and flows intimately over the land. My feet follow silently, dragging my muddled mind which is far too busy creating horrific images and outcomes for this day to spare any attention to the encouragement the brook whispers. I fear what I shall find, am caught by a terrified fascination of trying to determine what look shall be in his eyes. Hate? Accusation? Betrayal? Confusion? 

The water swings tightly around another curve, and he is there. Fallen to his knees in the middle of the creek which eagerly gurgles and bubbles about his legs. How he managed to get so wet, I do not know, and care little enough to try to guess. All that matters is that I have found him, and can try to correct my failing. His hands are clenched over his thighs, and he stars blindly at the trees which stand in the direction he must have been headed before he fell. His breath enters his body through a strained and disfigured mouth, and escapes in short staccato bursts which accompany the orchestra of rather pitiful noises. I doubt that he is aware of them. Who has this happened? I knew that my betrayal would bring a harsh blow, but this…he looks as though it has become too difficult even to hold together the shreds of sanity we are left with. I did not dream this would affect him so. Dear Gods…it should be me, it is me, collapsed and clutching at my soul. In this moment, more than ever before, I truly despise myself. 

        *              *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Soft hands touch my chilled skin, breaking through the cold, wet fog my mind has been trapped in. A hell of my own making…Soft, but carefully shuttered eyes seek mine as the hand (so familiar, so dear) tilts my chin up. Flushed red lips move…he is speaking, but I hear nothing over the obscenely loud chattering. Where is it coming from? Why doesn't he make it stop? A warm, brotherly arm wraps about my waist, and he pulls me up and out of the water, cautiously. He does not let our bodies touch beyond what is necessary. Does he think I would try to take advantage of him again if he allowed a more casual touch. Dear Gods, he must think so. Yet…Yet, he is here, supporting my weight with his graceful body. Delivering me from my hell, yet again. Coming back for me after all I have done for him. How could I ever think I might deserve him? Pathetic.

His cloak is off and folded around my body. The sun shine brilliantly, but the air that touches me is cold, icy fingers searching to steal the last shards of warmth. Somehow, entirely without my being aware of it (what is that atrocious noise?), I am resting against a tree, and he has incited some obliging sticks to crackle merrily in flame. Then he is back at my side, pulling my wet tunic off, gingerly, treating me as he would a frightened child or a skittish horse. The puckered skin on my shest feels clammy, cold and moist, like a snake's belly. I cannot control the shivers that wrack my body. I know that I should try. After all, I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to Isildur…it is quite unseemly for me to be drenched, shirtless, and shuddering in the middle of a forest. But, only Legolas is here to witness my weakness, and he has already seen the worst of it today. I cannot possibly lower his opinion of me any further. But…But, he pulls his own tunic over his head, (as I force myself, barely, not to gasp as the expanse of flawless white skin), then tugs it into place around me, and his smell drifts up, wafts into my nose and at the same time clears my head and muddles it further. He readjusts the cloak, wrapping me like a babe, but oh so carefully. Can't he see that I am in no position to accost him? 

The pounding assault on my ears dims as my teeth still and cease their chattering. He is murmuring soft assurances that I can finally begin to make out.

"So sorry…shh…that's right, let your body warm itself…gods…my fault…didn't mean…" I can't make out all of the words, and those that I can clash and clang inside my head in a tumultuous riot of color and harsh sensation. His hands flutter over my face, push the tangled and dripping cords of hair from my eyes, then withdraw. I know not if it is the cold that has so addled my brain, or if it was the shock of my actions against him, or perhaps I somehow hit my head…however, I am cognizant enough to know the one important thing. He is here. He doesn't hate me. Not if he followed me, pulled me from the water, and is trying to resurrect some pittance of self-preservation. He may not love me, but he does not hate me. 

This revelation breaks through the cold sweat in my mind, and I lose my grip on the small bit of sanity the vague distanced feeling has afforded me. The whimpering noises that have been filling the air cease, and are replaced by a desperate gasped sob, as I launch myself into the arms that were hovering just out of reach. I know that he is shocked at my actions, and that I am possibly endangering this final shred of hope, but I have not the strength to restrain myself. He still cares enough to be _here_. And that is all that matters as the sweet embrace closes around me, the murmured words now mangled in my hair, and flowing between Common tongue and Elvish – gentle soft reassurances that it's all right, I'm going to be all right, he's so sorry. He pulls me close to his chest, and if I had the presence of mind, I would thank the Gods that made him the taller of us, for he is able to tuck my head under his chin, and I can feel his heart beat. Those three words resound inside of my befuddled head. "I'm so sorry." Mired in honey, sweet and sticky, insistently dredging up a reaction – a question. Why?

When I can finally feel my fingers again – somehow one hand made its way around his neck and is digging into the downy skin, as the other twins itself in the blond hair that cascades over his chest, directly over his heart – I force my lungs to accept a deep, shuddering breath, and pull away just far enough to meet his eyes. 

"Why?" His eyes are amazing. I can read so much in them, and still understand so little. Concern, tender affection, wary caution, and confusion. I try to make my question clearer, but it take several attempts before I can wrap my trembling and bitten lips around concrete words.  "You…said…You said sorry…why?" The shudders snap closed again, and his body stiffens against mine. Gods – have I hurt him again? His gaze remains locked on me, though, and I wait as he tries to find words to formulate an answer.

"I hurt you…I scared you, and I didn't mean to…I didn't mean." I feel as though I have been hit quite hard on the back of the head with a very sturdy tree branch. He hurt me? What? Scared? I was only scared when I saw that tear. And…what exactly didn't he mean to do?

My confusion must show in my eyes, because he stops groping for words, shakes his head, offers me a very small smile, and says, "It was my fault, and I am sorry. It won't happen again." My mind is still not working as fast as it should. I know that he is saying something terribly important, and if I were myself, I could figure it out. I ask slowly, making sure the words are perfectly formed, "Legolas…what are you talking about? I was the one who…" but I can't finish my sentence, try as I might. Maybe, though, something of my meaning got through to him because those earth brown eyes which had begun to wander downward, away from my eye, suddenly darted back, and there was a new flavor to them. Hope? He blinks slowly, then shakes his head, blond waterfall tumbling, and speaks in calm measured tones. 

"We've made a mess of this, haven't we? I came to find you so that I could fix this. I had every intention of lying to you, if need be. But I refuse to use you so poorly. You deserve so much better…"The voice trails off for a moment, as his eyes go soft and melted. Then, they harden again, and the voice resumes. However, the liquid gaze started a tingling in my spine, and the voice is only making it spread. "I misunderstood your words, and acted wrongly. I apologize. I did not mean to hurt you. I just thought…" Oh. Oh…I see. Suddenly the light from the sun and the blazing campfire are pouring through the air, and coagulating around him. I open my mouth hesitantly. If I am wrong, and I tear us apart again – I do not think that I could survive the separation. All ready, without him for five minutes, I almost managed to kill myself. Surely I didn't mean to…

"What did you think, Legolas?"

        *              *                      *                      *                      *                      *

I stare into the piercing eyes. How can he be so formidable, soaking wet, and wearing half of my clothing? The self-flagellation I felt at finding him transformed into immense relief when he turned to my arms, and I saw that, though I despised myself, he did not. However, that relief is quickly dissipating. I know that I cannot lie to him, and surely if he can still stand me, such a strong and noble soul, surely he can hear my guilt as justly as he experienced it. But keeping our eyes locked is the hardest thing that I have ever done in my life.

"I thought that you were telling me that you loved me." The pupils have dilated, with cold or shock, but somehow, they look…heavy…aged. "And so you were disgusted." His words are a statement, not even giving me the privilege of a question. Where did he manage to find that answer? I shake my head vehemently, too much so. I know that I should tread very carefully, keep my sins as few in number as possible. "No, I was not disgusted, Aragorn. I could never…" I know better than to finish the sentence. His eyes are huge – how have I never noticed their size before? I think that possibly the fire has transferred itself from the cold and unforgiving ground to his living eyes. They burn through my brain. 

"Why did you cry, Legolas?" Simple, direct, and impossible to answer. But I know that I owe it to him to try. "It was…I felt…"I give up for the moment, and shake my head in defeat. Better that I keep silent. But now I find our positions reversed, as he cups my chin in his hands, and forces me to look him in the eye. He will not accept my silence. I make one more attempt, open my mouth, turn off my brain for the moment, and let the words flow from the junction of my soul and my heart. "I was complete." That is all I can give him. The words are now his to do with what he pleases. 

It is a shock, a jolt, a joy undeserved when his lips press against mine. They are as sweet, as tender, as precious as before, but so much more cautious. And his eyes. Are open. They are open and trained on mine, as if he wishes to be able to watch my reaction – to insure that there are no more mistakes. It is a struggle of the sweetest harmony to keep my eyes open and locked with his as I open my mouth to him, and meet his tongue with mine. There is no mad dueling, just a kind, patient and tender exchange of greeting. His hand trails down the side of my neck, fingers dancing around, behind my skull, and I do not try to restrain my moan. He pulls his mouth away immediately, but does not remove his body, nor his hands. The sense of fulfillment that he brings is creeping slowly up into my throat as the ragged pieces of our souls merge and are mended together.

He speaks carefully, slowly. "You did not misunderstand me earlier." A moment of silence for the words to sink into my fevered mind, and flow into my heart, lighting an everwarming fire. Then, softer, as I beg my eyes to convey to him everything that I feel, all that I am, "Am I misunderstanding you now?" 

He is so strong, but the vulnerable tone twists in my gut. I retrieve my hands from where they have fallen upon his lap, work them through the hair above his ears, gently caress the tension-tightened temples with wondering thumbs, and place my lips reverently upon one eyebrow, then the other, then move down, to tangle my lips with his. My eyes still open, I pull back bare centimeters, and whisper across his lips, "If your understanding is that I love you, then you are not in error."

A tremor runs through his body, his lips expel a relieved gasp of air, and he pulls me back to him, eyes finally drifting closed as lips meet, hands stroke, tongues rove, the completion returns fully, and we two become the one that we have always been meant to be. 

        *              *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Additional Author's Note – Well? What do you think? Was it worth the trip? I am leaving on vacation in about four hours (it is 2:30 in the morning. Ugg.), so I don't have time to make individual replies as I like to do. But, I may post an epilogue of sorts when I get back, and will include comments in there. So for now, all of my heartfelt gratitude, and very appreciative thanks to ice cream assassin, Riley, AJ Matthews, Katsuai, Butterflyz, Nemesi, Laika, Just another Writer, Sam, Keithan, ban shee, and Little My. And of course, to everyone who has reviewed the previous chapters. Big thanks go out to those who have followed this story from the beginning. I would never have finished it if it weren't for you. What a wonderful welcome to the world of fanfiction! Thank you all so much! 


	12. Thank You

Hi, everyone! 

I have finished and posted the epilogue for Double Edged, but as it is NC-17, I posted it separately, so that people who liked my story, but aren't interested in more graphic stuff don't have to put up with a change in the rating. The epilogue is called Perfection. Check it out, and let me know what you think. I don't know if I will write any more for this universe. Tell me if you want me to. The chances of more stories increase proportionally to the amount of positive feedback that I get. Funny how that works, huh? If you don't feel like leaving a review for whatever reason, you can e-mail me at jade_kitsune@hotmail.com. 

This is where I get to say my thank you's to all of the wonderful people who have given me the motivation to keep writing and have made my first foray into fanfic so wonderful. 

To Those Who Reviewed Chapter 10 – 

**Ice cream assassin **– you sounded a little worried there…surely you didn't think that I would keep them apart! I'm not quite that evil. Although I was pretty tempted to pretend to be that evil. I seriously was wondering just how an elf would go about committing suicide. But I couldn't quite bring myself to make them suffer more. Maybe next time…

**Riley **– I remember when you just had one itsy fic up, and I was checking every day to see if you had updated. And now, what, five? My God, girl, you rock. It is really an egobooster that you like my work, and thanks so much for always pointing out specific things. It helps me to improve my writing – or at least try to!

**AJ Matthews** – Teehee. Thanks you. I know that really, Aragorn probably isn't stupid enough to freak out over a tear, but I stick by my view that he was very…emotionally overwrought…and, erm…tense. Yes. Thanks also for the vote for the sequel.

**Katsuai **– Sorry, I just didn't want to make it too easy for them to be happy. After all, that ain't how it usually works in real life. And if we have to suffer, then so should they! Just not too much…

**Butterflyz** – You were wrong! I hope you are happy! ;) I'm going with Aragorn being a dunderhead. Does that come close enough to the word you were looking for? And, really, I promise I'm not entirely evil…just sort of tempted to be evil…

**Nemesi** – Aww…thanks! But, buttering me up isn't gonna work. I won't tell you what happens next. You will just have to read and find out! Although…if you are reading this, then you probably already read the end…so…uh…yeah. Er. ;)

**Laika** – Gee…so many people seem to think that I'm not a very nice person…I don't get it (winks). Liked your reference, btw. And when I do publish a novel (which doesn't look like it's going to happen anytime this decade. I keep getting distracted from the ones that I am working on, because you can't put rabid LOTR slash in the middle of a book…) I will definitely dedicate it to y'all!

**Just Another Writer** – I'm glad you found me again, too! Yeah, Aragorn has a few mental stumbling blocks…that's why we call him "special". No, that's mean. I do love our little silly boy. He just doesn't have the best people skills possible.

**Sam** – wow. Tingly? Perfect? I don't know how to thank you enough for telling me that. Your support makes me feel better about neglecting my homework to write slash. I think that environment is terribly important in setting up e vaguely believable story, and try hard to have a sense of it in my writings. I am so glad that it came across to you. Thanks.

**Keithan** – better late than never, right? Thanks a lot for your kind words. Your version of Aragorn is very wise. Maybe our Aragorns could get together, and yours could give mine some pointers.

**Ban she** – I am fairly certain that patience is a vice. Sitting around and waiting never gets anything done. We have just been brainwashed by a lazy society to believe that patience is a good thing. Yes, indeed. Thanks.;)

**LittleMy** – Yes, I feel bad for Arwen too. But, she is in the way of two people who are meant to be together. Besides, I think that Aragorn is too scruffy for her. So, she'll just have to deal. Though, if I were her, I would have already contacted the hitman. 

**Those Who Reviewed Chapter 11 – **

**AJ Matthews** – Thanks a lot! And here's the epilogue that you asked for – aren't I considerate? ;)

**Keithan **– Thank you so much. With people like you to write for, how could I not continue?

**Jessie **– Thanks!

**Sam** – Really? You almost cried? Ohhh! I'm so glad! Thanks! I already have two new fics in the works. I wanna see if I can actually make you cry…

**Ice cream assassin** – Man. You are so sweet. I am really glad that you liked it so well. And, I'm glad that you were happy with the ending. See, I told you that I wasn't entirely evil! You can post anything of mine that you want on your site!

**Lemonaddict666** – Aww! Thanks! That's really nice of you!

**Butterflyz **– Brilliant? Wow. Thanks. I just write what the nice voices in my head tell me. I'm glad the end didn't disappoint you!

**Pennhothwen **– My Goodness. That it so very good to hear. Thank you. I am really glad that you liked it, and very grateful for your comments. I am thrilled that I have converted you to the wonderful world of slash. Of course I am working on more offerings. The ideas pile up in my head and bang on my skull until I let them. I hope you continue to enjoy them. And maybe post some of your own writings?

**Riley** – Thank you. I am kind of proud that I appear to have been able to give some wonderful people stories that they seem to like. I would never have gotten through the whole thing without support your support. I really appreciate it.  

**Loki's Mom** – Hmm. I liked what you said quite well, thank you. I'm glad you were happy with the result of their stubborn idiocy. They are good guys, just, as you said, kind of dense at times. Thanks also for correcting my quote. Stupid, stupid me. I constantly get those two messed up! Thanks!

Thank you all for your support. This has been an amazing introduction to the little ff world. I have no plans to quite writing anytime soon, thanks to you. If you have any questions of comments that you would like to discuss, e-mail me, and I will get back to you. I am a sucker for getting e-mail. I might even award little cookies of stories inspired by what you tell me. ;) Thanks again!

Kitsune


End file.
